A Radiant Dawn is Breaking

When, on my eve of life,
a radiant dawn is breaking
and whispering winds
from Heaven's bright plains
are blown,

 

I hear,
from out the sunrise,
voices calling
my feet to brighter paths,
untried,
unknown.

E.E.L.

 Emily Emerson Lantz 

1862 ~ 1931

Forget-Me-Nots of the Angels

P.S. Longfellow is my 5th cousin 6 times removed, i.e., my 10th great-grandmother, Elizabeth (Burbage) Wiswall (abt.1610 - aft.1664), is his 4th great-grandmother. My 10th great-grandfather, Thomas Wiswall (bef.1601 - 1683), is his 4th great-grandfather.

Where God's lights are always on

We close our eyes, but for a moment
To open them in Heaven's brightness
Where God's lights are always on.
Nettie Flagg Cooke


See the rest of the poem at . . .
Filiopietism Prism: Matrilineal Monday

The Season of Light

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.


from
A Tale of Two Cities
by
Charles Dickens
07 February 1812 – 09 June 1870

Go Rest High on That Mountain

I know your life
On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain
Son, you work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

Go rest high on that mountain
Son, you work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and Son

By Vince Gill

I Sure Miss You

If life could only bring again,

the days I took for granted when

To hear your voice was just a call away

Oh what I'd give for just some time,

to say the things that slipped my mind

There's so much now I'd really like to say


But I can never go back when

we did the things we did back then

I'll store those precious memories in my mind


I'll take what you've instilled in me;

I'll try to be all I can be

And walk the path that you have left behind.


I sure miss you;

life will never be the same with you not here

Each passing day has brought much pain

But with God's grace my strength remains

I sure miss you,

but Heaven's sweeter with you there.

The little things that seemed so small

are now gold in a memory vault

I cherish every one I have of you


Now I can see and recognize

the part you played to shape my life

I often see you in the things I do


In God's design and master plan

He saw the hurting hearts of man

As we would say goodbye to those so dear


So with our family and friends

we'll be together once again

We'll view all Heaven's splendor hand in hand.


I sure miss you;

life will never be the same with you not here

Each passing day has brought much pain

But with God's grace my strength remains

I sure miss you,

but Heaven's sweeter with you there.

Words and Music

by

Gerald Crabb

Easy to Go Home

The other day I passed a place
you always liked to go,
And I picked up the phone because
I thought you'd want to know;
But I forgot that you weren't there,
Oh, I miss you so these days,
But I'm reminded of your smile
and the funny things you'd say.

You left a grieving family,
and friends who love you, too,
Though I have felt you many times,
And know you saw me through;

I always long to feel your arms
and look into your eyes,
And talk forever me and you
somewhere in Paradise.


Knowing we can spend a lifetime
reminiscing on the past,
Knowing I will see your face again
where tender moments last;

It makes me want to be there
knowing I won't be alone,
Knowing you'll be there
makes it easy to go Home.


Performed
by
Guy Penrod

A Picture of Me Without You

Imagine a world where no music was playing
And think of a church with nobody praying
Have you ever looked up at a sky with no blue?
Then you've seen a picture of me without you



Have you walked in a garden where nothing was growing
Or stood by a river where nothing was flowing
If you've seen a red rose unkissed by the dew
Then you've seen a picture of me without you

Can you picture heaven with no angels singing
Or a quiet Sunday morning with no church bells ringing
If you've watched as the heart of a child breaks in two
Then you've seen a picture of me without you

Norris Wilson / George Richey

We're all here for a family reunion . . .

Here we are . . . 
gathered together again . . .
on this . . . 
our Reunion Day.
 
Reminiscing 
and laughing 
and crying . . .
about all of our yesterdays.

Those special times . . . 
we vow ne'er to forget . . .
as the years . . . 
how they seem to fly.
 
And our precious loved ones . . . 
so sorely missed . . .
as one-by-one . . . 
they have said, "good-bye."

But for now . . . 
I believe they are with us . . .
and if we could hear them . . . 
perhaps they would say,
 
"May the circle once again be unbroken . . .
on this . . . Our Reunion Day."

And as we travel on . . . 
through life's unknown days . . .
may we anticipate that day up in Heaven,
 
When we'll all gather 'round . . . 
and once again hear them say . . .

"We're all here for a Family Reunion!"




 
P.S. I vaguely remember being inspired to pen these words by something I read . . . somewhere. While Googling parts of the above poem, the poem posted > HERE < is the only thing similar that came up.

May Day

Happy May Day


The fair maid who, the first of May
Goes to the fields at break of day
And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree
Will ever after handsome be.
Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme

A delicate fabric of bird song
Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
Is everywhere.
Oh I must pass nothing by
Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
The grass with my touch;
For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May
Shining after the rain?
Sara Teasdale, May Day

  Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.
Heinrich Heine, Book of Songs

  I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, or June, and July flowers.
I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bridegrooms, brides, and of the bridal cakes.  
Robert Herrick, Hesperides, 1648

  Now the bright morning-star, Day’s harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire!
Woods and groves are of thy dressing;
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
John Milton, Song on a May Morning, 1660  

  The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven --
All's right with the world!
Robert Browning, The Year's at the Spring

  Oh! that we two were Maying
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;
Like children with violets playing,
In the shade of the whispering trees.
Charles Kingsley  

  Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Felicia Hemans  

  The May-pole is up,
Now give me the cup;
I'll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it.  
Robert Herrick, The Maypole, 1660

  I cannot tell you how it was,
But this I know: it came to pass
Upon a bright and sunny day
When May was young; ah, pleasant May!
As yet the poppies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last egg had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird foregone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was,
But this I know: it did but pass.
It passed away with sunny May,
Like all sweet things it passed away,
And left me old, and cold, and gray.
Christina Georgina Rossetti, May, 1880

The Shades of Evening

". . . Thus was his fair dawn of life, whilst his cloudless sun was nearing its meridian, in a moment veiled in the shades of death. . . . As the stars of heaven shine brighter at the close of day when the shades of evening gather over the earth, even so do his virtues beam with brighter lustre from the darkness of the silent tomb: and long shall it be ere there shall cease to be found in memory's waste, a green spot watered by the tears of affection for him who is gone."

Centennial History of Harrison, Maine: Containing the Centennial Celebration of 1905, and Historical and Biographical Matter :: By Alphonso Moulton, Howard L. Sampson, Granville Fernald :: Published by the authority of the town, 1909 :: Original from Harvard University :: Digitized Aug 21, 2006 :: 727 pages